Bad Things
by thoughtpolice
Summary: Craig and Kenny start off their senior year with petty detentions and write ups. Neither of them suspected that by the end of the year, their little act of rebellion may have been taken too far. Side pairings: Creek
1. Prologue

**Detention Report**

**Student Name**: _Craig Tucker_

**Reason**: _I honestly don't know. I didn't understand a math problem. That was it. All I was asking for was an explanation. Just for a little bit of fucking light to be shed on the subject of THE LIMIT OF A FUNCTION. Is that too fucking much to ASK FOR?_

_I may also be in here for swearing. I think._

**Teacher**: _Mr. Garrison. Thanks for the help, you shitball._

**Date of Detention**: _Sept. 30_

**Parents signature:** _I don't think I'll be giving them this copy._

Craig stopped himself from writing anymore unnecessary and vulgar things on the slip of paper. He snapped the cap of the pen back on, giving the middle-aged woman behind the desk a forced smile when she asked,

"You always here. Why? Why you bad boy?"

He gave her a long cool look before answering. "I'm not bad. Everyone here is just fucking stupid. So if it pleases you, stick you're goddamn nose out of my business a have a swell day, mam."

Then he calmly walked out the office.

_What a nice fucking way to start off senior year_, he thought.

* * *

**Detention Report**

**Student Name:** _kenny mcfucktart. or mcCormick, that works too._

**Reason:** _sorry i didn't know bringing in playboy mags was such an offense. goddamn do any of you fucks even know how crucial it is for teenage dudes to get their daily dose of bodacious racks. do any of you even know what tits are._

_oh yeah i wasn't jacking off either, like that fatass said. i've mastered in the art of controlling my boners thank you very much._

**Teacher:** _mr. i have a really obnoxious toupee._

**Date of Detention:** _september 30_

**Parents signature:** _oh, HA. they'll certainly give a fuck..._

Kenny scoffed mildly as he added some "final touches" to his pink slip of paper. Satisfied, he chucked the pen into the pencil holder and gave the elderly woman behind the desk a deviant smile.

"You kids. Always getting into trouble. Bad things." She muttered angrily with a heavy accent of god knows what.

Kenny's smile faded. And then returned quite simultaneously.

"Wanna know how bad I can be?" He smirked, and then blew her a kiss.

He laughed delightedly as he walked out the door, leaving the poor old woman flustered behind, shouting through her thick accent.

"Bad things!" She said. "Disgrace!"


	2. The match

For the fifth time in a row, Craig Tucker had woken up on the moist, yellowing grass of Stark's Pond.

He didn't know if it was really the _fifth_ time—it could've been the sixth, or eighth—but that didn't matter much. By then, the rise of the sun, the whistles of the trees, and the pure distinct scent of damp dirt were beginning to feel overwhelmingly familiar to him. It felt like home, but that was a big red lie. Home was far from feeling like this, let alone being.

His eyes had been opened for a while, allowing them to adjust to pale morning light, but he had made no attempt to get up.

The view was quite nice at ground-level. And even though he still felt a terrible urge to drift back to sleep, the group of ladybugs marching a few inches off at his side sparked his interest. Little things like that always did. It made him wonder how it felt like to be small. Not in a psychological sense—because shit like that made his head hurt—but in a literal sense. Small like a cubic centimeter or a grain of sand. Small like a tick or a flea taking refuge under the collar of a child's pet dog. How would the world look then?

The lady bugs crawled over the strands of wet grass, oblivious to the giant right beside them. **_Giant_**, Craig thought, and he was quite fond it. Lazily, he brought a hand over the marching bugs and for a brief second, pondered on whether to squish them or not. He stopped himself at the sight of a blue smudge of the inside of his palm. There were faded numbers and letters written hastily with what could've been a blue pen. A gaming code? Too short. It took a while for him to figure out the jumble of letters were not randomized.

_Calculus pg. 89 (prob. 1-29, 30, 33, 35) due tues._

Somehow calculus and causally laying on the wet grass of Stark's pond did not sound right together.

The dew on the grass was beginning to soak through the thin fabric of his sweater, coating his arm that by now felt a bit too numb for comfort. Reluctantly, he sat up and rubbed his eyes free of drowsiness. Just near the shore of the pond, Craig saw his telescope and book bag.

"Oh." He said, faintly remembering how long it took him to find the constellation of Cassiopeia. And how time always managed to find a way to slip through his fingers. He managed to recall most of the night; none of which involved Calculus. Or picking up his sister, Ruby, from school.

"Shit." He said, with as much guilt as he could possibly muster early in the morning. In other words, no guilt at all. He already had pictured it. Ruby angrily walking home, throwing a tantrum in her room until their father came home. Only then would her angry fits have turned into whiny sobs, gaining the much needed sympathy from their overly-stressed parent. Without a doubt it would've worked, too. Who wouldn't take the side of a six year old child?

With a diffident grunt, Craig slipped a hand through his pocket and pulled out his phone, skipping the missed calls from his father and checking the time. Almost seven thirty. Which gave him ten minutes to get to school (if he planned on getting there on time). Or thirty, if he wanted to skip division and Mr. Garrison's daily oral quiz. It was a tough call between playing the nice guy or just being the lazy jerk that he was.

Amidst the echoing squawks of crows and the irritable chirps of crickets, Craig heard the soft rumbling of a motor. He turned towards the road and near a group of tall thick bushes he saw the dented bumper of his car and its parking lights. _Tell me I didn't leave the car on_, he thought to himself.

The lights dimmed out and the motor ceased.

"Oh, great." He said and fell back onto the grass with a shallow "oomph".

The phone in his hand rung; none other than the outdated theme song of Red Racer. He checked the glowing screen, frowning irately at the name displayed on it. **_Clyde_**.

"What?" He answered. The sloppy sound of crunching filled his ear, along with a string of incoherent words.

"Mhmm mhph."

"Whatever that means."

"Where are you, dude!" Clyde managed through a full mouth.

Craig sat up, eyeing his telescope with a blank expression. "Um." He paused. Telling Clyde he fell asleep at Stark's Pond—_again_—would ignite an awfully long and boring lecture. "Home. I woke up late." He stood up and began to make his way towards the pond to pick up his things.

"Huh. You were doing that stargazing shit again, weren't you?" Clyde sighed heavily through the phone.

"No." Craig stated, impassively. He picked up his book bag and began dissembling the telescope.

"I can hear the crickets Craig. You're at the pond."

"Well _con-fucking-gradulations_, Sherlock." Craig said, walking towards the parked car near the road. "You got me. What do you want?"

"Quit sleeping on that grass man. _Bums _take a crap around there."

_As did you when we were in boy scouts_, Craig thought blandly.

"I'm hanging up."

"No no, wait! You going to home-coming or what?" There was the sound of rustling paper, followed by sharp, crisp munching.

"Don't see why I should." Craig took his keys out of the car and began making his way down the road.

"Ouch. How about showing a little more support for your bro, yeah?" Clyde said, clearly offended.

"Support on what."

There was a pause on the line, followed then by a long exasperated groan from Clyde. "_Football_. The Game. Wide Receiver. **_Me_**. You're breaking my heart, Craig."

"I thought Stan was the wide receiver."

Clyde growled. "Oh fuck you. You know goddamn well _that cocky dickhead_ is the quarterback.

Craig smirked; Clyde was the last person to talk about cockiness.

"Chill. I'll be there." He said, sliding on his book bag as he continued walking.

"You promise?"

"No."

"CRAIG—" Clyde whined but Craig cut him off short and hung up. He took once last good glance at his car, fading off in the distance, and just hoped a bear wouldn't come along and destroy it. There were no bears in South Park.

But, you know, it was always fun to imagine that there were.

* * *

There were numbers on the board. Numbers that didn't quite make much sense in Craig's head. And it wasn't because he was bad at math—although who's to deny that it was partially the reason he was failing the class—it was just the concept in its entirety. The theories, the rules, the strategies, the fucking numbers in general. To him, it made no sense. Or in better words, there was no point to it at all. No significant value. Because really, who needed math? Scratch that, there were probably a hefty amount of people out there that needed math. But leaving behind accountants, physicists, and statisticians, who in hell used math in their everyday life. Not simple math. But all this variable, coefficient, trigonometry shit. That's what Craig wanted to know. How was he going to benefit from 0= 2x2 + 12x + 27. How was this irritating fuck of a problem going to help him today, tomorrow, and until the end of his days?

"Psst, Craig."

He sat there bouncing over the sloppily written equations on the board, wishing he'd have stayed on the cool pasture of Stark's Pond. Mr. Garrison droned on, swiping the squeaky chalk to and fro, adding what felt like endless problems. How was there still space left?

"Hey….psst, Craig. Hey."

Craig felt a piece of paper hit the side of his face. His teeth clenched. Somewhere behind him he could hear Jason laughing exaggeratedly at some lame joke Clyde had cracked. There were mocking chuckles coming from Cartman to his right, followed by a string of insults from Kyle. Off to his left, Bebe was giggling, whispering loudly to either Rebecca or Wendy.

Noise. Loud aggravating noise. Mr. Garrison didn't notice. Or maybe he did but was too focus on trying to shove all that math nonsense down their throats as quick as possible just so that he could finally sit his tired old ass down at his desk and call it a day.

"Erm…Craig? Craig, can you hear me?"

This was math class. This was every class on Craig's schedule, every day for six goddamn whole hours. Noise. Nonsense.

Never ending.

School was like a scab on the knee. Very annoying, yet you couldn't do anything about it besides waiting until it went away by itself.

"Craig—"

"_Jesus Christ_ Butters, what the **FUCK** do you want?!" Craig shouted.

The room fell silent. And just as if they were all still back in fourth grade, everyone laid their curious glances on Craig. Mr. Garrison cleared his throat, turning from the board to narrow his eyes.

"Is there something you'd like to share with the class, Craig?"

"No." Craig deadpanned. He could hear Butters apologizing softly under his breath.

"There must be. If ya felt the need to be so damn loud."

Craig blinked. He couldn't be serious. "The whole class was loud."

Mr. Garrison sighed. "I'm not talking about the class, Craig. I'm talking about you. Now what the hell did you shout for?"

Craig hated math.

"So. You don't care that the whole class was being loud. But you care that I was being loud."

He hated Mr. Garrison.

"Are you avoiding my question, Craig?" Mr. Garrison's voice became stern.

He hated—to a reasonable extent—almost everything in existence.

"Well do you realize how fucking stupid your question **_is_**?"

There was a mild resonating gasp from the students. Then Cartman erupted in laughter.

And Craig was sent to detention.

* * *

Craig held his third pink slip of the year in his hand, crumpling and wearing it thin between his clenched fist. He sat in the back of room 213, trying not to breathe in the old musky stench of dried sweat and dusty books. The old lady at the front was far from doing her surveillance job. She sat on the creaky chair, snoozing with her shoulders hunched heavily forward; the glasses on the bridge of her nose sliding ever so slightly every time she let out a grating snore.

This was hell.

Well, it could've been home, too. Craig was here so often. Usually for reasons not specifically clarified to him. There were only rare occasions—like this one—where he actually knew what he did wrong. Although today was a bullshit reason and all thanks to jolly, bashful Butters and whatever the fuck it was that he wanted. He had to spend the rest of the afternoon here, wondering how great it'd have been if he'd had woken up just now, still lying near the shore of Stark's pond. Not having to deal with petty things like math.

Or picking up his sister, Ruby.

"Shit." He muttered, more annoyed about the lecture his father was going to give him rather than his own failure of meeting the responsibilities of a big brother.

The door creaked opened, but Craig was too busy coming up with excuses to tell his father to even notice. Shit, and _his car._ That piece of scrap metal was still drained of battery out by the road.

"The bears probably got her." Craig mumbled tiredly.

"Got who?" said someone. Someone fairly close. Craig looked up to find a mop of messy blonde hair and a pair of dull blue eyes, sitting atop a desk next to him. Kenny McCormick.

For the past three times Craig's had to sit in the stuffy room of 213 to serve detention, he had the unfortunate luck of having to share it with Kenny McCormick, the off-centered kid who tagged along with Stan, Kyle and Cartman; three of his least favorite people in the whole town. This was partly due to genuinely not liking them and mostly due to the residue left from their fourth grade rivalry. You'd think after seven years, and old rivalry would've been left out to rot in the dust. Well, for the most part it did. There were no more silly competitions of who's better, or childish remarks thrown at each other down the hall. Over the years it toned down. It went from unreasonable, childish hate to just generally avoiding each other. If no paths were crossed, everyone was happy.

Craig blinked. "I wasn't talking to you."

"No shit." Kenny chuckled.

"Then?"

Kenny shrugged. "I'm nosey."

Kenny was an exception. Out of the infamous four, he was the only one Craig had a slight tolerance for. It might've been the fact that Kenny never really "stuck" to them. Or any group of friends whatsoever. He was more of what Craig called a "traveler". He kind of just roamed about wherever he liked and he could pull it off. Kenny had the ability to fit into any group he wanted, whenever he wanted, which was something that confused Craig. And maybe even annoyed him.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Craig asked blandly. He wasn't in the mood for small talk. He should've just told him to fuck off.

"Came here to bang Mrs. Hansen." Kenny rolled his eyes and slid off the desk, heading towards the stack of old books near the desk at the far back. "What do you think?"

"What did you do?"

If Craig remembers correctly, these have been the same questions he's asked Kenny since the first time they served detention together. Either there was nothing else to say, or the answers he got temporarily amused him. Made time go faster.

Kenny picked up a torn book and began to skim through it carelessly. "Eh. Brought in a porno mag."

If Craig remembers correctly, that has been the same answer he's gotten. Every single time.

"You do realize that's always why you're in here for, don't you?"

Kenny smirked, nodding in acknowledgment before closing the book and throwing it off to the side. It landed on the floor with a loud thud, one that almost woke Mrs. Hansen up.

"Ain't that some shit." He threw his hands up in the air.

"You should save yourself some stupidity and stop bringing them in." Craig said, although he really didn't give a damn what Kenny did or didn't do with his stupidity. As long as he wasn't anywhere near it. He looked at the clock and realized it was almost time to be set free. He stood up and began to pack his things.

"I saw how you went off on Mr. Garrison today." Kenny grinned, settling himself back on top of one of the desks. He continued on a bit mockingly, "That was so **_courageous_** of you. Oh you big hero."

Craig stopped, looking back up with a faint glare. "What. Do you think I was trying to impress the fucking class or something?"

Kenny eyed him head to toe, smiling mischievously. "Nah…Nah that was all you."

The bell rang.

"Go home, McCormick." Craig muttered and began to make his way towards the exit.

"Hey, Craigster." Kenny called out. Craig stopped, and with a heavy exhale he turned around.

"_What_."

"You're getting real tired aren't you?" Kenny rose his brows tauntingly.

"Tired of what?"

"Of everything. School, your job, _this __**town**_."

Craig huffed. "Isn't everyone?"

"Everyone's not you, idiot." That smirk was back in place. "If you had a match would you light it?"

For each detention serving, Kenny had asked a different question. "You picked a really stupid question today."

"_Would you light it?" _Kenny pressed.

Craig didn't ponder at all. "Sure. Why the fuck not?"

Kenny nodded appreciatively and hopped off the desk, striding over to Craig.

"Then it's settled." He smiled, patting the taller on the shoulder. "The war begins."

But before Craig could even conjure up any words to protest or clarify, Kenny had slipped though the exit and left.

"The war…begins?"


	3. The drift

I finally updated, whoo! And I swear on jeebus that I will not take another four months to update the next chapter. I apologize for those who have waited. Thank you so much for all the reviews! :)

* * *

"The sky's pretty shitty today."

Craig's father ran the spatula over the pan, spreading the sizzling butter back and forth and looked over briefly to where his son sat.

"What?" He asked.

Craig kept his gaze on the window where just beyond the thick glass the clouds traveled slowly with a reddish glaze. The trees towered just below and sometimes Craig swore they cut through the puffy mist. In cities, the sun would be up and undisturbed by the tall lush spikes of the evergreens. The sky wouldn't be red, Craig thought. But it was morning and usually these weird thoughts ran through his head. He had been up for over an hour yet his muscles felt like soft cookie dough and his eyelids weighed liked pounds of lead. It could be a sunset, he told himself, not a dawn. He suddenly felt the urge to crawl back upstairs to his room and slump under his blankets until the sun was fully out and the color of the sky did not deceive.

The smell of bacon brought him to reality. And his father was still looking at him.

"Mhmm, nothing." He shrugged and looked down at his soggy cereal. He jabbed once, then twice with his spoon, letting the milk get tainted by color of the crushed fruity pebbles.

"Did you sleep well last night?" His father asked cautiously, turning off the stove and setting the pan aside. "I've been noticing those dark circles under your eyes."

"I'm fine." Craig mumbled tiredly, piling up the lumpy cereal at the center of his bowl. He wondered briefly what his father would think if he knew about the sleepless nights down by Stark's Pond. Probably not a nice thought.

"If you say so." His father said, grabbing a damp cloth to wipe his hands. "Listen, I need you to pick Ruby up from school today."

Craig stabbed his cereal with annoyance. He glanced over through the entrance and into the living room where he could spot a tuff of messy blonde hair snuggled on the couch. Dora's bothersome voice could be heard from the TV.

"Craig," His father pressed.

"Sure whatever," Craig muttered, forcing a spoonful of soggy cereal into his mouth. He could hear Ruby answering to Dora and Boots sleepily.

"Don't give me that kind of crap, Craig." His father spoke angrily. "The last time I told you to do this, Ruby walked all the way home. I don't want to see that happen again."

Ruby popped her head out from behind the couch, rubbing her tired eyes.

"I said sure, didn't I?" Craig answered bluntly. Something told him this kind of response would ingite a long heated leacture from his dad. And boy, it did.

"Sure? Is that your way of showing you care about your sister? Are you even listening to yourself?-"

And that's about all he heard. The talking continued of course, just not his interest in listening. He heard the basic of it all before either way. It was the same old discussion he had with his father ever since Ruby was born. Take care of your sister, Craig. You're now a big brother, Craig and big brothers have big responsibilities. All that melodramatic bullshit. Except the speech roughen over the years and Craig was now eighteen which meant his father was allowed to tweak his lecture up a bit. What kind of fucking son have I raised? Ruby's only six and she knows better than you. When are you going to learn to grow up and take responsibility?

It was somewhere between his disappointing grades and unacceptable behavior that Craig broke eye contact with his father and glanced over at Ruby who by now was wide awake, leaning over the couch curiously watching the one-sided argument. He watched her pick lazily at a loose tooth with her stubby finger. The collar of her blue transformers shirt, which used to be his, hung stupidly over one of her shoulders. She looked like a mess, Craig thought. Why the hell was his father praising her? He narrowed his eyes and mouthed a "fuck you". She widened her eyes and dropped her finger from her mouth, shifting her gaze from Craig to her father uncertainly, debating in her little head whether she should interrupt her angry father to point out Craig's bad word.

Craig smiled. She didn't have the guts.

"You know what? You're taking Ruby to school too."

His smile faded. "Wait, what?"

"I can't deal with this right now," His father said, throwing the cloth into the sink and running a hand tensely through his hair. "I have some calls to make. And the lawyer will be here in half an hour or so-"

"I'm not taking Ruby to school, I don't have my car-" Craig argued.

"Then you walk her to school Craig, goddammit!"

The phone rang. Temporary silence.

"Do you want me to get it, daddy?" Ruby wobbled uncertainly by the kitchen entrance. Her father shook his head.

"No it's fine. Go and get ready for school, honey."

She nodded and skipped down the hall. Her little footsteps could be heard trailing up the stairs and into her room.

"_Do you want me to get it, daddy_?" Craig repeated, mockingly. His father gave him a piercing glare.

"Get out. Now."

Craig resisted the urge to laugh and stood up, chucking his bowl into the sink on his way out. He didn't bother giving his father a second glance, that same look would probably stayed plastered on his face for the rest of the day. Ha, what a pity the lawyer will have to sit through with that.

He walked into the living room and grabbed his black jacket off the couch, eying Ruby's coloring book that sat atop his bookbag. Just to be an ass, he took it and hid it under one of the couch's box cushion.

"Craig, wait for me!" Ruby's muffled shout came from upstairs. Craig grunted sorely, slipping on his jacket and bookbag and heading towards the entrance. The small footsteps came trodding down the stairs and Ruby reappeared with two poorly held up pony tails and untied shoes. She held something blue in her hand.

"You left your hat upstairs." She smiled and extended her hand out.

Craig looked at his hat dumbly. How did he forget his hat? He ruffled his dirty hair and snatched the hat off her hand, rolling his eyes and putting it on. "Come on you twat." He muttered, heading out the door. "Let's take your ass to school."

Ruby nodded and followed behind, walking into the morning's pale blue sky. The air felt too crisp. Too cold for October. Ruby shivered and pulled her hoodie over her head, ignoring the fact that she was messing up her pony tails. She brushed a strand of hair off her face and noticed Craig was already a good few feet a head of her.

"Wait!" She called out, running to catch up to her big brother but remembering to jump over all the cracks in the sidewalk. Craig didn't bother looking back, although she wished he would. She was already breaking a new record, and that was saying something seeing as though their block was splattered with many cracks and this was a very difficult task. A giggle broke out from her jam stained lips and only then did Craig look back with an irritated glare.

"Look Craig, I'm not stepping on the cracks!"

"Cut it out Ruby, you look like an idiot." Craig blustered.

Ruby stopped immediately. She slowed down her pace and lowered her head, although she wasn't surprised by her brother's outburst. She was quite used to his insults by then.

"I'm sorry" was all she mumbled but it didn't even matter because Craig's attention was back up front and she was left trailing behind, like always.

* * *

The last period bell rung and students began pouring out of the classrooms with a wide range of shouts and cheers. The hallways became engulfed in shades of red and white, from face paint to matching shirts, all in the celebration of South Park High School's very much anticipated homecoming game. Teacher's popped their heads out with slight interest, watching as the Senior football players rallied up the underclassmen and marched down the hall, pumping up the students for that night's game against their all time rival, the Westmont Dophins. Some teacher's smiled bitterly, having previous knowledge that South Park never won any of it's football games. And it was always the same every year. The same anticipation, the same hopeful aura and the same pitiful outcome. As the crowd moved down the halls, the teachers slunk back into their rooms with shallow laughs, knowing that tonight would only be the hundreth time South Park would loose against a team who's mascot was a hot pink dolphin.

Craig banged his head against the locker, trying to block out the aggravating sound of vuvuzela's and terribly synced chants. He slipped his key into the lock and opened his locker with a forceful kick. Nope. There's was nothing like the friday of spirit week. Full of goddamn school spirit.

"Yo!" Came a voice from behind Craig, followed by a heavy slap to his shoulder.

"Go fuck yourself." Craig deadpanned and began to throw his books sloppily into his messy locker.

"Did that already. _Twice_."

Well, there was only one idiot who would say that and more than likely actually do it. Clyde.

"What's up?" Craig softened up, seeing as though it wasn't another fucker asking him why he wasn't wearing the school colors to show some pride. By the third person, Craig swore fists were gonna start flying.

"Youuuuuuu coming or what?" Clyde asked cheekily, poking Craig's side.

"No." Craig smiled, snatching his hat off the top shelf of his locker and brushing it off neatly. Clyde's smile faded instantly.

"Oh you asshole. What the hell man, you said you would," Clyde said, shoving Craig with disappointment.

"Gotta pick up the brat from school." Craig shrugged, closing his locker and tying the strings of his hat around his neck.

"Who, Ruby? But don't you gotta do that like right now?"

Craig nodded.

"The game's at seven you assmunch, you got plenty of time!"

Craig sighed. "Why do you want me to go? Aren't Bebe's cheers enough for you?"

Clyde frowned, something that always made Craig want to laugh. "But you're my bro, man. And bro's are there for eachother-"

And Craig's brain pulled the plug right there. He was never really interested in long responses. Not that he had anything against Clyde's bro speech. He sure it must've awesome...and whatnot. All his bro speeches were. That is, if all of them were about the usual things Craig's mind wandered off to. Like Cosmic brownies...or Scarlett Johansson.

Then a certain mess of blonde hair caught his eye.

"And Bebe's tight man, she's awesome but she's just not bro material, ya know?" Clyde continued but Craig was already focusing on the blonde sporting the familiar orange jacket, going down the hall with smooth strides.

"Out there in the depths of the earth's core, there is a book called the Bro Code..."

Craig wondered where the blonde was headed. Not that he actually cared or anything, but there was a weird smirk playing on his lips and just the way his hands dug lazily into his pockets made Craig feel like the asshole was up to something. Even if it wasn't directed at him, it pissed him off. A tad bit.

And then he suddenly remembered detention a few days ago.

"_Then it's settled. The war begins."_

"What the fuck does that mean?" Craig narrowed his eyes, watching Kenny dissapear around a corner at the far end of the hall.

"IT MEANS YOU NEVER LET A BROTHA DOWN CRAIG." Clyde cried, clutching desperately at Craig's shoulders.

"Whoa, alright." Craig hissed at the painful contact. He shoved Clyde off. "I'll go. Relax."

Clyde beamed brightly. "Fosho. So I'll see you tonight, right?"

"I'll be screaming your name." Craig smirked and began to make his way down the dirty hallway that by now was vacant and littered with crunched up streams and...fucking confetti? He saluted Clyde, their funny little way of saying goodbye, and they both went their separate ways.

_Now_, Craig wondered, _where the hell did that blonde go?_

* * *

The night was far from pleasant, weatherwise. The temperature had dropped much like it did in the morning, leaving the air thin, the stadium's grass frosted, and the students jumping akwardly to keep warm. It wasn't much an October night as it should've been. Halloween was still two weeks away which might as well have meant Novemeber was somewhere in buttfuck egypt. But again, it was Colorado so in some way such weather was to be expected.

Well too bad because Craig was still wishing he'd have stayed home and treated himself to some burnt mac and cheese. It was better than standing awkwardly between a bunch of sophomores who were yelling their hearts out to an empty field. The teams had barely arrived. So did the cheerleaders. Craig looked around to see if any other seniors had been dumb enough to show up. He spotted Jason a couple rows back on the bleachers with Rebecca and Jimmy chilling next to Stoley. He grimaced inwardly when he spotted Cartman stuffing his face with what looked like beef jerky, and Butters and Kyle sitting next to him.

"Look who showed up!"

Craig turned around to spot Token coming up the bleachers, sporting a cast on his left arm marked with the sloppy signatures of all his friends. Even from afar, Craig could spot his one of a kind "fuck you" near Token's elbow. It was meant to say "Fuck you, Mathers" but he had ran out of space. Mather's was the name of the football team's coach who had Token removed from the past few games after he took a hard hit from Jenkowski. And all you needed to know about Jenkowski was that he was basically big foot in the flesh. Kudos to Token for even wanting to keep playing after that incident.

"You decided to come and support your wife?" Token smiled, taking a large gulp off his drink. He was all decked out in the school's colors, making him blend rather easily with the noisy sophomores behind them.

Craig looked out into the field where the cheerleaders had begun their routine. He could see Bebe next to the yearbook team jogging around trying to get the perfect pictures of them to paste into the school's book of pointless glossed papers. That's all the yearbook was, anyways.

"Be careful. I don't think Bebe likes it when you insult her man." Craig grinned, eliciting a mocking laugh from Token.

"Please, you know she'd agree with me. Clyde, total housewife."

Craig nodded. That, he could not disagree with.

The game seemed to drag on for hours. By half time, Craig was ready to knock out one of the sophomores and use their unconscious body as a mattress because goddamn football just was not his thing. And the stadium lights were burning with the brightness of god's pearly whites, which was not having an sort of holy effect on Craig. Token, on the other hand, had managed to gather a cute junior girl's interest by then, having gained some sympathy points for his fucked up arm which was complete utter bullshit to Craig. So while he flirted his way to a possible one night stand, Craig was left to deal with figuring out what the hell was going on on the field.

There were some little bright spots here and there. Like when Clyde made eye contact and gave him a big cocky grin to which Craig responded to with his middle finger. Or when Stan made a touchdown and Clyde's face would contort into a pained angry expression, looking up at Craig and raising his hands as if to say, "look at this fucking cocky asshole, thinking he hot shit." But other than that, it was plain boring. Burnt mac and cheese still sounded good at this point.

"You know, we might actually win this game." Came a voice strangely close to him. How Craig heard it clearly among the screaming underclassmen was far beyond his comprehension but he turned either way to find Kenny leaning casually over the railing.

"Whoo hoo." Craig stated dully, trying to figure out how the hell Kenny got there without him noticing.

"Then again, I'm talking to a guy who couldn't give a shit if he tried so I guess it doesn't matter right?" Kenny turned to look at Craig with raised brows.

"And I assume you do?" Craig said. Kenny smiled and shook his head.

"Nah." He said and turned his attention back to the game. "But we're both still here right? I mean you're here rooting for Donovan and I'm here cheering on Stan. So fuck it, if it beats jerking off alone in my room, why not?"

Craig paused, taking a good look at Kenny's shifting gaze among the field.

"Does it?" He smirked.

Kenny burst out laughing. "No. It really doesn't."

"Then what the hell are you still doing here?" Craig responded taking notice that Token had long since left with that perky babe. Kenny removed himself from the railing and dug his hands deep into the pockets of his old worn jacket.

"I don't know dude, I'm getting some fresh air, shit. Can't a guy chill at place he don't want to?"

"If you're an idiot, sure."

"Oh you're endless wit entertains me." Kenny rolled his eyes. "No wonder your ass is always wandering about in detention."

A little light bulb went off in Craig's head. Detention. Right.

"Speaking of detention, what the hell was Tuesday all about?" Craig asked.

Kenny didn't bother looking back, preoccupying himself with the cheerleaders who were resting by the bottom of the bleachers. "What about Tuesday?"

There had always been something annoying to Craig about having to explain himself. "I don't know you said some shit about matches and then told me the war begins. What the hell was that about?"

Kenny looked back in confusion. Then something clicked and he mouthed an "oh" in recognition before shrugging casually and saying, "Meh, I don't know."

And that was it.

No, that couldn't be it. If it was, Craig was gonna kick his ass. He actually pondered over that shit.

"Bullshit, what does it mean." Craig pressed.

Kenny chuckled. "That's about all it means, Craigster. Bullshit." He briefly looked back with a smile. "I say a lot of it, so get used to it."

Craig was still refusing to believe. Something told him that wasn't it. Hell, he didn't know what it could've been but it wasn't bullshit. Kenny still had that playful smirk lingering about. And it was started to piss Craig off.

"If I had that match, I would light it up in your face." Craig said, not exactly knowing where he was going with this. Kenny began to grin widely.

"You wouldn't do shit." He said. "Let alone start a revolution."

_There he goes with those war terms again. What in the fu-_

"Who said anything about a revolution. I'm just talking about burning your face off." Craig smirked, trying to level himself with Kenny but in all honestly there was no knowing which direction Kenny would spiral out in. Kenny straightened up and gave Craig a long cool look. And when Craig said he never knew which direction Kenny would wind up going in, he really meant it.

"Hit me."

Craig was taken back by his words.

Kenny chuckled. "Come on dude, hit me. Just lay one on me, right here, on my jaw."

"What?" Craig asked, quite confused. "What are you talking ab-"

"I'm taking about that war shit again. You really wanna know what I mean by that? Well I gotta know if you're qualified first."

Craig was in between wanting to tell Kenny to cut the bullshit out and actually punching the shit out of him.

"Qualified? What is this, Fight Club?"

Kenny shook his head and began to unzip his jacket. "Nah, this is better." He flung it over the railing and rolled up his t-shirt sleeves. "In the sense that I'm hotter than Brad Pitt and there aren't really any rules to this."

"You want me to punch you in the face?" Craig asked dumbly, like for some reason he was just not catching the drift.

"Sure, why not. If that's what your feeling at the moment, go for it." Kenny grinned, his breath coming out in a grey mist from the cold.

"And you're totally okay with this?"

Kenny rose his brows in disbelief. "Are...Are you asking me for permission now Craig, really? I said GO FOR IT, YOU FUCKING PUSSY."

A little nerve was tugged within Craig's brain that sent a signal to his right hand. He balled it up into a fist. This kid can't be serious, he thought. But then again, he was kind of hoping he was cause god knows how good it'd feel to sock him. Especially when he was grinning at him like that.

He hand twitched uncertainly by his side.

"Aw poor Craigster is feeling pressured." Kenny pouted childishly. "Is the pressure to much for little Tucker?"

Craig's nails dug deep into his skin.

"Maybe you can't even throw a decent punch. Maybe you don't know how to!" Kenny gasped letting his lips fall into that devious smile again. "OR MAYBE YOU'RE JUST A LITTLE BI-"

And Kenny was cut off immediately from the full blow of Craig's fist to his mouth. He stumbled backwards losing his balance and falling hard against the metal railing. There were loud gasps from the underclassmen surrounding them, followed by a string of "oooooo's" from the instigators.

Kenny regained his vision quickly and spat into his hand, marveling at the dark liquid staining his palm. He brushed his fingers along his teeth and was relieved to feel they were all still intact. But a huge grin began to spread across his cut up lips. He looked back up at Craig who was looking down at him sort of triumphantly and satisfied.

"How do ya feel?" He asked, wiping his bloody hand on his shirt. Craig shrugged, staring at his fist with awe. He muttered something along the lines of "Pretty good I think" before Kenny cut him off with a good solid blow to his nose. Another chain of "oooo's" broke out and before long the students began egging them on. Craig was quick to response, picking himself from his awkward fall and shoving Kenny hard against the railing, taking that chance to knee him in the stomach a couple times. Kenny managed to trip him down and suddenly there were fists landing everywhere. And there were cheers and shouts, some telling them to beat the others ass, the others yelling for security to come.

Craig ignored all of this. All he felt was Kenny's fist colliding roughly with his ribs, chest, face, and arms. But somehow it felt...thrilling. It felt exciting. The roughness was challenging, something Craig rarely experienced. It was as if they were fighting to the death. And and one point he was almost sure that he was going to pass out unconscious and wake up in the hospital bed. Or even worse, his coffin. But the adrenaline was there and that made all the consequences worth shit. The sight of his own blood didn't terrify him. Shit, at that point he couldn't even distinguish his own blood from Kenny's. It was hard to tell who was winning, even though Craig knew damn well he was getting in some good hits.

But did it even matter?

"HEY, BREAK IT OFF YOU TWO. COME ON, GET UP."

The next thing Craig knew, Kenny was being pulled off him and they were both being dragged up from the floor. The underclassmen had a mix look of horror and wonder in their faces, like they were both some beings from outer space. The security guys held them back like animals posing a threat. And Craig couldn't feel his own goddamn face. He looked over at Kenny who was trying to catch his breath.

And amidst all that bullshit, he still smiled.

He looked at Craig and let out a broken laugh. "What did we do wrong?"

Craig looked around the stadium and noticed they had become the main attraction. He could spot the football players, more so Clyde, glancing up with shock and confusion as well as the cheerleaders and the coaches. They all looked around him like he was at the center of a crime scene. But...why? That's not how he felt. That's not what had happened.

Craig looked at Kenny and began to smile as much as his sore face would let him.

He was catching his drift now.

Kenny mouthed the same words again. "What did we do wrong?"

And Craig responded with how he felt at that moment.

"_Nothing at all._"


	4. You do because you can

Craig was back within the not-so comforting walls of room 213, tapping his pencil irately against the battered old desk. His glance shifted back and forth between the closed door and the small round clock that hung crookedly above Ms. Bosak, who surprisingly wasn't on the verge of knocking out unconscious like most days. Today, her paper thin brows danced above the crusty skin of her tired old eyes as she scanned the daily newspaper, pushing occasionally her thick framed glasses to the bridge of her nose. The creases around her mouth would deepen every time she'd snort mockingly at something she read. And it made Craig wonder why he was still even looking at her.

He grimaced and focused his gaze back on the door. Through the body of rushing students he could faintly make out Clyde and Token hanging around Tweek's locker. A pinch of jealously shot through him. They were probably making plans to eat at Raisins or Taco Burrito King, laughing joyously because it was Monday and they didn't have to worry about serving a week of detention or explaining to their father why they came home one night with a battered lip and a bloody nose.

Craig clenched his teeth, wincing immediately after realizing how sore his jaw still was. It was childish jealously and of course he didn't really hate his friends for making plans without him. After all, it was his own fault. Because it seemed like a good idea at the time. And Kenny didn't really give him enough time to think it out. Although he was pretty sure if he _had_ thought about it, the outcome would've been the same. Craig smiled, as much as his sore jaw would let him because there was no doubt about it...it had felt great to kick Kenny's ass.

"Do you like being in here?" A rough dry voice said.

Craig turned back to see Ms. Bosak peering at him through her thick peach glasses; her lips pursed to a thin crooked line.

"What?" He asked.

"I know kids like you. I've seen them sit in detention year after year after year. And always with the same funny smirk on their faces. They liked being in here. It made them feel _cool_." She smiled, making the creases around her eyes look like tiny valleys of yellowing skin. Craig forced himself not to cringe.

"I think being in here sucks," he answered even though he was really tempted to ask how kids from the 15th century behaved. She surely must have known.

"Then why do you get into so much trouble?" Ms. Bosak asked, raising her brows skeptically. When Craig didn't answer, she chuckled and shook her head. "Yes...boys like you never learn. I've seen too many of your kind and they never learn."

_Too many of my kind? What am I, part of a league of misbehaved teenagers? Are we separated into a new form of species now or something?_ Craig felt like breaking the pencil between his fingers and casually flicking every piece at Ms. Bosak's face. _At least my kind isn't on the brink of extinction you motherfu-_

The door swung open.

"The fuuuun has arrived!" sung a voice and Craig turned around to find Kenny striding in through the door and casually flinging his book bag into one of the seats.

"Sit down, Kenneth." Ms. Bosak said, tilting her head with an irritated glare. "And if you come late to detention one more time, I'm reporting you to Principal Victoria."

"This is my last day of detention, Ballsack." Kenny grinned. "Can't do much about it now, can you?"

"It's Bosak!" She blustered, taking off her glasses and pointing a menacing finger at Kenny. "And I'll make sure she gives you another week if you persist with that nasty attitude. Now sit down."

"Attitude? I heard I'm quite charming." Kenny gave her a subtle wink, to which she waved off with incoherent mutters under her breath. He chucked his crumpled up pink slip on her desk and went over to sit down next to Craig.

"You'd think by now she would've figured out I'm not mispronouncing her name..." He turned to give Craig a smirk but stopped once he took a good look at his face. After a couple of seconds, he erupted into a full wide grin. "_Holy shit_, man."

Craig rolled his eyes. "Yeah, your face isn't exactly a masterpiece either."

"I know. You messed up my eye pretty good. I'm surprised it's not swollen anymore." Kenny laughed, pointing to the purple-blue smudge around his left eye. Craig felt a small tinge of satisfaction as he scanned Kenny's face. Besides the black eye, he noticed the scar on his lip from his first punch and a few scratches on his forehead from when he pushed him headfirst into the ground.

"My jaw is still sore." Craig said.

"Pftt yeah, well, my ribs are too." Kenny grinned, shrugging like it was no big deal. "Shouldn't stop us from admitting we threw in some good solid blows that night."

"I guess." Craig muttered indifferently, glancing up at the clock and grimacing at the fact that they still had an hour left in the dusty poorly-lit room. He sunk his face into the palm of his hands. "Nghnnn, but all for a week of freaking detention."

He heard Kenny laugh. "Meh detention ain't that bad. Look at it this way." He poked Craig's side, making him realize that part of this body was sore too. "You're..._qualified_."

Craig peered though his fingers with a raised brow. "Huh?"

"You're in. It's happening. We're doing this." Kenny bit his lip throwing a couple of playful punches at Craig's arm to get him pumped up. A little light bulb went off in the taller's head.

"You mean you're finally gonna tell me what that war stuff meant?"

"Yeah but shh..." Kenny hushed him and nodded, looking cautiously over at Ms. Bosak who was busy reading the outdated newspaper. "We gotta wait until grandma falls asleep first. We can't have her eavesdropping on this."

It wasn't long before the sound of Ms. Bosak's snores began resonating around the room. Kenny and Craig made sure she was fully knocked out, clapping loudly in her face and slamming dusty physics books on her desk. When even their loud mocking laughs didn't stir her from sleep, they both knew they were good to go. Craig sat back at his desk, looking at Kenny expectantly.

"So," he said, tapping his pencil impatiently because they still had about fifteen minutes left in detention and the smell of Ms. Bosak's strong perfume was starting to give him a headache. Kenny sat on the edge of her desk, letting his gaze wander around the dirty checkered floor in deep thought. After a short while he looked up.

"Why are we sitting in detention?" He asked.

Craig narrowed his eyes a fraction. "What? I don't know. Cause we kicked each others ass on friday?"

"But why are we in detention for that?" Kenny pressed.

Craig sighed in irritation. "Cause it's against school policy to fight, idiot. Why else?"

"No, they have us here because they want to. " Kenny said. He sat up straight, leaning forward a bit. "Look, we fought at the homecoming game, right? There were school teachers and security guards, sure. BUT...it was after school hours."

"So?"

"**_So_** those bastards didn't have the right to do anything! Sure yeah, they had the right to break up the fight and kick us out of the stadium, but not to punish us. I mean once that final bell rings they're not responsible for us, regardless of whether we're on school property or not. So we're basically sitting in detention for no reason, dude."

Craig sat back to let it sink in. Kenny was right, but that was all that was to it. "Well we can't do anything about it."

"Oh but we can." Kenny wiggled his brows and jumped off the desk, walking around to the chalk board and pushing the top board up to reveal a messy drawing underneath. "_TA-DA_."

Craig glanced over the swift chalk strokes on the green board. It was a poor drawing of the school map, the one Craig usually saw near the office. Marked on it were multiple red x's and a bunch of scribbles that looked like directions.

"What's that?"

"This, Craigster, is our game plan." Kenny grinned.

For some reason, it kind of all connected together in Craig's brain, even if Kenny had been a little to vague. He looked back at the map and realized the x's were targets on each of the fire exits. And the scribbles were merely names of teachers and staff.

"This is it?" Craig asked. "This is what you meant by war? You want to rebel against the school?"

Kenny leaned back on the board, crossing his arms over his chest triumphantly and nodding. "In a manner of speaking."

"Wow, okay." Craig deadpanned. "I'm out." He stood up and slid on his book bag, heading towards the entrance. Kenny's smile fell instantly and he dashed to the door to block Craig before he could exit.

"Whoa wait, where are you going?"

"Kenny** move, **cos' I'm about two seconds away from punching you in the throat."

"Huh? Why?"

"_**Why?**_ I let you fuck up my jaw, get me a week of detention and all for what? So that you can try and get me to pull of some stupid scheme with you?"

Kenny laughed. "Hey, it's not that stupid once you hear me out."

Craig attempted to push Kenny aside but failed. "What are you, thirteen? Grow up McCormick."

"Hey, the school has us eating out of their goddamn asses Craig and you seriously don't want to do anything about it?"

"No. Go find someone else."

"Agh, there is_ no one else_." Kenny whined.

Craig shrugged. "I don't care. Now _move_."

Before Kenny could say anything else, Craig shoved him out of the way and went out the door. He didn't care if there were still five minutes left of detention.

* * *

The hardware store was busy, much more than it really should have been. After all, South Park wasn't much of a big town and there were only so many people that stopped by once in a while. But for some reason, today was an exception. Everyone gathered around the carpeting department, in hopes of getting some of the new colors the store had ordered in. It might have been a funny sight to Craig, watching the men and women fight over ridiculous shades or red or green while practically throwing their wallets at the cashier's faces. But he didn't really have the motivation to walk over and actually see the commotion. Instead he walked up and down the aisles, lazily marking down the items on the shelves in his clipboard, like he was supposed to do.

_Flat head screws, sixteen boxes, check._

_Faucet spouts, twenty five, check._

"Tucker, take that hat off! I'm not telling you again, that's your last warning this week."

_**Asshole supervisor**__, one, check._

Craig cursed silently under his breath and pulled his hat off, tying the blue strings around his neck and ruffling his black hair. He continued walking up and down he aisles, checking off each item one by one; the same damn routine he's had since day one at the hardware store. There were days were he didn't mind working there. Although, those were the days he got to drive around in the forklift or go around watering plants (which he took advantage of because he had a water hose and one of his co-workers would always happen to "get in the way of it.") Then there were these days, were he was assigned to restock or sales floor associate where he'd be stuck counting screws, toilet seats, and light bulbs.

"Excuse me, could you tell me where I can find the metal part that goes under the sink?"

Or helping out the dense motherfuckers that walked right in.

"Excuse me."

"Yeah, hold on a second, sir." Craig muttered, counting the boxes of bolts on the top shelf. He began to mark down the number only to realize his pen ran out. "Shit."

"No, see, I'm in a bit of a hurry. I just need to know-"

_Yeah, aren't we all_, Craig thought angrily to himself, scraping the tip of the pen harshly on the paper.

"Just...chill, alright? I'll be with you in sec." He said and continued swatting the pen over the paper until the tip broke and the paper ripped. "God effing dammit."

"Look I have a meeting to get to in an hour!" The man exclaimed impatiently.

"And I have a pen that doesn't fucking work!" Craig shouted unintentionally. His supervisor popped his head down the aisle, giving Craig a deadly glare, to which the younger responded with a crooked smile. He shot him one last warning look and disappeared. Craig exhaled slowly and apologized to the customer, forcing a tight smile. "Look we're both trying to do our work, right? So I'mma just put this pen away and help you find what you need first...which is?"

"The bottom part...that goes under the sink." Said the man.

Craig's smile faded. "Oh. The trap you mean." He swallowed his anger. "That would be directly to your left, sir."

The man turned around and scanned the shelf. His face brightened up once he found the item and thanked Craig, walking away satisfied. Craig was tempted to throw his clipboard at his head. Just a couple of seconds of looking at the shelf and he would have found the damn thing on his own. People these days just expected everything to fall in the palm of their hands. Or at least, have someone else do all the work for them.

After Craig counted the rest of the items, he walked over the small office in the back and chucked the dirty clipboard on his managers desk. He bumped into his supervisor again on his way out who was not so happy with him about the incident. He gave him a lengthy lecture but of course, Craig heard none of it. Only some parts which included, "one last warning" and "you will get fired next time." By the time he finished rambling, Craig was ready to choke himself with his apron. Luckily, his shift had finished and Clyde, Token and Tweek were already waiting outside for him.

"Yeah, I'll see you on thursday, Marcus." Craig waved him off mid-sentence.

"I'm serious Craig. You better start acting like a grown man if you expect to keep your job."

"I'll work on the stache and beard, don't worry." Craig smirked and walked out of the store.

* * *

Clyde was leaning against the hood of the car, talking quietly on his cellphone. And by the way he kept smiling and looking at the ground, Craig could tell he was talking to Bebe. Which is why he only received a knowing nod from the shorter boy when he spotted him coming out of work instead of the usual crushing bear hug. Token and Tweek were in the back of the car, preoccupying themselves with Clyde's ipad. Probably playing some stupid game like temple run or four pics one word.

"Tell Bebe I said hi." Craig said, snatching the coke from Clyde's hand and the bag of Burger King that sat on the hood. Clyde scrunched up his face and shook his head. "HI BEBE!" Craig yelled into the phone, receiving an elbow to the stomach. He laughed and dug around in the bag, realizing Clyde only got him small fries. "Aw, you cheap asshole."

"You're driving." Clyde grinned, throwing him the keys and walking over the the passenger side.

"Why?" Craig asked through a mouthful of fries. Still, he took the keys and slipped inside the car.

"Dammit Tweek you killed us!" Token's laugh filled the car and the smell of Burger King grew strong.

"Really...you guys couldn't wait for me?" Craig looked around the car filled with empty cups and whopper wrappers. "It's barely eight."

"Hey man, I was hungry as hell." Token replied. "Plus Romeo over here made us wait like an hour in the car while he walked Bebe to her front door."

"Shut up, it was twenty minutes top." Clyde called out quickly over his shoulder, rolling his eyes. He then said goodbye to Bebe and hung up.

Craig laughed, "Why didn't you two walk out on him?"

"Cause we we're locked in the car." Tweek muttered from behind the ipad. "This ah-asshole forgot to tell us the child safety lock was on."

Token burst out laughing along with Clyde. "Oh dude, that almost gave Tweek a heart attack."

"It's not funny, you pricks." The blonde glared, running a hand through his wild locks. "I'm freaking claustrophobic."

Craig smiled and chuckled, "You alright there, Tweek?"

"Of course he is, now can we go to Raisins?" Token pleaded. Craig was about to answer when a hard tap came from his window. "Who's that?"

"Is that...Is that Kenny?" Clyde squinted and Craig turned quickly to face his window. As Clyde had suspected, it was Kenny. "What the hell is he doing here?"

"Beats me." Craig deadpanned and rolled down the window.

"Whoo, it's really chilly out here!" Kenny said through a wide grin. He peered inside curiously. "Y'all having a little sausage fest up in here or what?"

"What do you want McCormick?" Craig glared because as far as he knew, he was still tempted to beat the blonde's face to a pulp after all the bull-crap he managed to pull off on him. He was still serving detention and there was still a purple blotch near his ribs.

"Come to the park with me." Kenny said simply. Clyde let out a mocking scoff and the rest looked back with baffled expressions.

"What?" Craig asked dumbly, like for some reason that sentence just didn't make any sense.

Kenny repeated himself casually. "The park. Come with me."

"Right now?"

"Naw...next year."

"Go away, McCormick. I'm not going anywhere with you." Craig muttered and turned on the car.

Everything would have gone back to normal if Craig would've drove off right then and there. Except, he didn't. And he couldn't. Because Kenny walked aimlessly in front of the car and stayed put, digging his hands deeply in the pockets of his orange parka and giving Craig a sly smile. You ever plan something so great that you just know nothing can get in the way of it, but then the day finally comes and some stupid inconvenient obstacle decides to show up the last minute? Kenny was that stupid inconvenient obstacle. The rest of the guys grew confused, wondering what the hell was going on.

"Get out of the way." Clyde remarked, swatting him away with the wave of his hand.

Kenny shook his head but kept his gaze on Craig.

_What is he doing?_

"Come on dude, we don't have any time for this." Token called out, clearly irritated. Kenny shook his head once more and this time, he gave Craig a quick wink. Just like at homecoming, a little nerve was tugged in Craig's brain. Something that made him clench his teeth and forget the irritating pain of his bruised jaw. He was not up for another dick move from the blonde.

"Just freaking move, Kenny!" Tweek exasperated.

Craig reached for the gear shift and revved up the engine. The motor roared and Kenny jumped slightly at the abrupt sound. Craig was hoping that'd scare the kid off but instead of running Kenny let a wider grin spread across his lips.

"Whoa Craig..." Clyde said cautiously. "What are you doing?"

"Making him move." Craig said and pushed further down on the accelerator.

"Don't run him over now, man." Token spoke up, uneasily.

"Yeah, don't run me over Craigster." Kenny added placing his hands in front of him defensively. The smirk was still in place. "I don't think Clyde would appreciate a damaged hood and window."

When Craig made no attempt to shut off the car, Kenny lowered one of his hands to search within the pockets of his gray oversized sweatpants and popped out with a neon green spray paint can. He shook it wildly and pointed it at the hood.

"But...maybe his car would like a new makeover?"

Clyde shot a hand to the gear shift, "Aw no..._no no NO_. Craig tell him to stop."

"He's not gonna do anything, Clyde." Craig reassured him, keeping his hand tightly enclosed around the gear shift. He briefly wondered how much damage the car would take under Kenny's weight. _Couldn't be that bad._

Kenny sprayed the can a few inches away from the car.

"Dude what the fuck!" Clyde jumped forward in panic. The boys in the back leaned forward as well except Craig, who didn't move an inch.

"Cut it out Kenny, this isn't Clyde's car!" Token shouted. "It's his dad's!"

Kenny let out a hysterical laugh. "W-why would you tell me that? Now I _really_ wanna give this baby a makeover."

"One drop on this car Kenny and me and Token will fuck you up!" Clyde yelled, banging his fist on the dashboard.

"Oh, I'll be happy to give him that second black eye." Token agreed, flexing his wrist.

Through the mix sound of insults and shouts and the irresistible temptation to run Kenny over, Craig felt a hand land firmly on his shoulder. He turned back to see Tweek watching the verbal argument tiredly and slightly annoyed.

"Just turn off the car, Craig." He muttered and shot him a glance that told him if he didn't, he would more than likely regret it. So in a couple of seconds, Craig took his foot of the accelerator, slipped the keys from the ignition hole and unbuckled his seat belt. Clyde, slightly confused, turned to look at him.

"Where are you going?"

Craig shrugged, stepping out of the car and throwing the keys on the dashboard."I guess I'm going to the park."

"Really?" Token said. "With the asshole who messed up your jaw?"

Craig turned back and said. "I messed up the kid's face, didn't I?"

He then looked at Kenny and shot him a look of disgust, purposely knocking into his shoulder as he walked by and headed towards the exit of the parking lot. He heard Kenny snicker quietly behind him as he followed along.

* * *

The cold bitter wind traveled against them, swerving around the outlines of their thin jackets, traveling up their chests and seeping through their strands of hair, all simultaneously. They walked up sidewalks of quiet neighborhoods, slowly approaching the park near their old grammar school. And they were quiet.

Craig turned to face Kenny, who stared ahead, eyebrows slightly raised, lips parted gently in a quiescent matter. His hands were dug deep in his pockets leaving creases at the tips as he walked with lengthy strides. The paint can bobbled faintly up and down to the rhythm of his steps, making a soft scratching sound as it rubbed against what sounded like keys. There was something that kept Craig's eyes glued to Kenny. It was the kind of attraction felt when you were so close to solving a crossword puzzle but no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn't figure out the last word. There was something about that dirty blonde kid, Craig thought, that he just couldn't figure out.

There was a slight twitch in Kenny's face and in a second his eyes were fixing themselves on Craig's, his head tipping upwards to face him. Craig immediately dropped his gaze and focused it on the pumpkins and skeletons that decorated every other house on the block. He expected Kenny to say something, anything, maybe even a teasing chuckle, but nothing happened. They simply continued to walk in silence. And Craig was left to wonder what exactly had made him get out the car to follow him.

By the time they reached the park, the clouds had left the sky, leaving behind scattered pin-points of light that lit up the rusty swings and broken slides.

"Ah, that young fresh air." Kenny grinned, taking in a deep breath with outstretched arms. He jogged over to the set of swings, falling lazily into one of them and kick starting himself into motion. "Care to join, Tucker?"

Craig denied the offer and took a seat on a bench nearby. "Just tell me why we're here."

Kenny released a long exasperated groan. "Jesus christ, relax for a bit. Who cares why we're here?"

"I do." Craig deadpanned. "Lets me know whether I'm wasting my time or not."

"Oh you'll always be wasting you time." Kenny laughed, keeping a steady rhythm on the swing. "Doesn't matter what you do."

"Yeah, thanks for that lesson Socrates." Craig released a long heavy sigh, getting up and brushing off the back of his pants. "Later."

Kenny dragged his feet until the swing came to a stop. "Wait, wait. You didn't hear my proposal."

"Fuck your proposal." Craig called back. "I'm not blowing up the school."

"Ah forget about the whole school thing, that was just a lame joke."

Craig stopped and turned around.

"So you got me. There isn't any war or revolution or any crap like that. When you told me about it at the homecoming game, I honestly meant it when I said it was just bullshit." Kenny gave him a lopsided smile. "But jesus you looked so interested. Like the thought of destruction pumped you up."

"No I didn't." Craig denied.

"Then why did you fight me?" Kenny raised his brows accusingly.

"Because you got on my nerves."

"Yeah...but then why did you smile back?" Kenny pressed on, putting a leg on the seat so he could lift himself up and stand on the swing. "When I asked you what we did wrong...why did you say nothing at all?"

Craig didn't answer. He felt like walking away but somehow he couldn't. Kenny was making a goddamn point again and he didn't like it. So he shrugged.

"It thrilled you, didn't it?" Kenny laughed, the chains of the swings creaking loudly underneath his weight. "Admit it!"

"Even if it was true, why does it matter?" Craig threw his hands up in annoyance.

"Because come next week, the mayor is throwing the annual Halloween fair in Town's hall and you're the only **motherfucker** I know who'd have the guts to crash the party!" Kenny jumbled out his words with excitement, leaving himself breathless.

Craig gave him a long look of disbelief. He shook his head. "No. Go find someone else."

"Agh, like who?" Kenny jumped off the swing.

"I don't know! Go ask Cartman! I'm sure he'd be willing to do it."

"Ah, Cartman's an attention whore." Kenny waved off his suggestion, kicking around the chips of wood underneath the swings. "He'd do it for all the wrong reasons."

"And why would I wanna do something stupid like that?"

Kenny stopped, keeping his gaze on the floor for a good while like he was looking for the right words to say. The park fell quiet, only the slight squeaks of the rusting swing chains being pushing by the wind were audible. Craig waited, pondering over his own question and making a mental list of all the reasons why he wouldn't do it. They were all valid and very good reasons in his opinion. But none completely satisfied him.

Then Kenny looked up and his concentrating stare disappeared and was replaced by a thoughtless shrug.

"You'd do it because you know you can." He said.

Craig was taken back by his answer. And not because he never would of thought of that. But because it overrode every reason he made up in his head. It was a valid point. And he couldn't help but like it.

He let out a weak laugh. "This is ridiculous."

"Sleep on it, then." Kenny said and walked up to Craig, patting him lightly on the shoulder. "You said you were tired of this town, right? Think about how fun it'd be to wreck it."

He brushed past him and walked away, pulling the hood of his parka over his head. Craig stayed behind, glancing over at the swing Kenny had jumped off from. It swayed gently to and fro with the wind, letting out rhythmic squeaks almost as if it were laughing. Craig felt a weird sensation in his gut.

One that both bothered and excited him.

* * *

Thanks for all who have patiently waited! Your reviews are greatly appreciated.

Hopefully some things have been cleared up as I've notice most of you were confused with the first few chapters. Although just a heads up that this little scheme of theirs is not the main focus of the story. I won't give much away, but it's just a little speed bump for things to come :)


	5. The spark

Ruby sat crossed-legged on her messy bed, flipping through the wrinkled pages of the small department store's catalogue. She chewed her thumb thoughtfully as she looked, again and again, over the rows of children dressed in a variety of costumes and masks. None of them sparked her interest, but it might have been the fact that all the costumes were displayed by the same three kids with overly excited smiles plastered on their faces. And as far as she was concerned, vampires didn't really smile a whole lot. She twisted her frustrated pout and flipped the page. A set of fairies and witches grinned up at her along with bright yellow stars that read "super sale". She sighed. Of course all the horrible costumes would be cheap and unfortunately the maximum price her father was willing to pay. Sometimes, things weren't fair.

There came the muffled sound of a door slamming shut, somewhere downstairs. Ruby paid no attention. She stuffed her hands into the bag of chips that laid by her side. Once again, she flipped to the page filled with vampires and monsters and took one of her stubby fingers to scratch at the price above their heads. If she could scratch out one of the zeroes, it wouldn't be so bad. But the zero didn't budge, so she munched disappointingly on her chips, groaned, and fell back on her bed in defeat.

Ruby closed her eyes. There came the faint noise of a started conversation. It wasn't long before she realized there were two voices and ones that belonged to none other than her father and brother. And for a while the incoherent phrases soothed her. They were voices she had known all her life, voices that she grew to love and memorize. Pitches that reminded her of trips to the park and bedtime stories.

_"I am not letting you borrow that car, Craig!"_

Ruby's body tensed for a fraction of a second and then it calmed back down with a sense of familiarity. This is normal, she remembered.

A soft tuff of hair brushed against her bare arm. She opened her eyes and looked over to see Stripe nibbling on a broken chip. She allowed herself to grin and placed the guinea on her stomach. Guinea pigs didn't have to worry about the prices of costumes, did they? They were happy just as they were. Stripe began to walk around, making Ruby giggle. She wondered briefly if Craig ever let Stripe wander on his chest or stomach.

_"You always tell me the same shit!"_ came his voice from downstairs.

Then she thought, _maybe not_.

Ruby sat back up, watching Stripe tumble helplessly off her and onto the crumby sheets. She looked at her clock and frowned. In less than two hours, her friends would already be outside trick-or-treating. And here she was, staring indecisively at the rows of kids in pirate hats and mobster suits when she should've already been at the store, like her father had promised.

The argument carried on downstairs which tempted Ruby to get off her bed and listen closely by the door but, there was no point. She never really understood why or what they argued about. Sometimes it was just about a little thing Craig forgot to do, like fix the radiator while dad was out or pick up some milk from the store. Other times, it had something to do with a man that began to visit the house often. He was a small bald man with an old suitcase and an angry voice. Ruby didn't know who he was— only that he made her father frown a lot and her brother very cranky. More than they usually were, anyway.

Ruby was used to seeing her father pace back and forth in the kitchen, constantly rubbing his face in frustration. Sometimes it was because Craig did (or didn't do) something. But most times it had to do with her mom. She knew this because her father would eventually stop walking and lean against the sink, whispering her name over and over again. This always confused Ruby.

Her mom was okay. She wasn't home, but she was okay. The doctor had told them and he even smiled when he said it. They were allowed to visit whenever they wanted and at times it didn't even feel like she was missing from home. So why did her father seem unhappy about it?

_"Ruby!"_ Craig's voice startled her. The sound of footsteps pounded up the stairs.

She'd have to ask her mother about it later. Right then, she frantically searched her bed for Stripe. Once she found him snugging his way under one of her pillows she briskly took him and gently pushed him under her bed.

"Stay there, okay? Shh." She said, draping her blankets over the opening before Stripe crawled out. "Craig won't like it if he saw—"

The door opened.

She quickly straightened herself back up, putting her hands innocently on her lap.

Craig eyed her weirdly. "What were you doing?"

"Nothing." She shook her head and then looked at the catalogue. "Um. Looking at costumes."

Her brother leaned on the doorframe, studying her carefully with a mild glare of annoyance. When he wouldn't look away, she did and proceeded to finger her loose tooth hoping Stripe wouldn't pop out any time soon.

"Put your shoes on." Craig finally said. "I'm taking you."

Ruby looked up, feeling her chest tighten with disappointment. "But Dad said—"

"Dad lied." Craig straightened up and walked out of the room. He called back, "Now hurry up or I'm leaving without you."

Ruby frowned and slumped off her bed, sitting on the floor to tug on her worn out shoes. From beneath the ruffles of her pink blankets, Stripe wiggled out and sniffed his way to the crumbs that fell from the bed. Sometimes Ruby felt like letting him loose outside, just so she could see how bad Craig would feel when he couldn't find him. But then she realized it wasn't really Stripes fault that Craig was mean.

And Stripe was cute.

"Ruby!" Craig shouted from downstairs.

"Dickhead." Ruby replied softly. She didn't know what it meant but she heard it once from one of Craig's friends and she knew it had to be something bad. And that's honestly what her brother was.

Something bad.

* * *

The sun was setting just below the mountains, painting the town in hues of deep red and creamy orange. The sidewalks were scattered with crisp dried leaves, dragging along with the wind onto the streets and under the cars. On the porches, skeletons danced on the strings they hung from, pumpkins glowed, and spider webs clung onto fake tombstones planted on the yards. Pirates, vampires, monsters, and heroes all ran from house to house, carrying in their small dirty hands buckets and bags eagerly waiting to be filled with candy. And among the crowd of costumed devils hyped up on too many pop rocks was a single Michael Myers maneuvering her way past them, dragging a bulky pillowcase behind. She found her way over to Craig, who was leaning against a car and texting on his phone.

She pulled the mask off. "It's too hot under here. I can't breathe."

Craig shrugged. "No one told you to be Myers, Ruby."

"I wanted to be scary." Ruby said and looked at her plump sack of candy. She grinned. "Look, I got a lot!"

"Whoopee." Craig deadpanned. "You done or what?"

Her grin fell as she wiped the sweat off her forehead. Her dad promised he'd take her. Not**_ him_**. She glared at Craig even though his eyes were glued to the bright screen of his phone. She took her tongue out and very but _very_ quickly flipped him off. She looked away when he finally put away his phone.

"Ruby." He said.

"Yeah, I'm done." She muttered angrily.

"Good." Craig peeled himself off the side of the car and grabbed Ruby by the arm. "Let's go."

They walked for what felt like an eternity to Ruby. It could've been that she was already tired from running house to house grabbing candy, but it also didn't feel like their usually route home. In fact, she didn't recognize any part of the blocks they were passing. These houses were bigger and prettier (which was something she sort of enjoyed) and the decorations on them were beyond all the cardboard witch cut-outs she saw back on her block. She tugged on Craig's sleeve to ask him where they were going but he suddenly made a turn onto one of the houses' driveway and her own question was answered.

The house stood tall and vibrant with lights that sort of looked like something that went on a Christmas tree. The porch was decked with perfectly round pumpkins with a range of faces carved into them. Ruby would've marveled at the house's beauty if it weren't for the loud ruckus that seemed to come from inside.

That and the weird things a mummy seemed to be doing to a witch on the front steps.

"Get a room, fuckheads." Craig said dryly as he pulled Ruby up the steps. Ruby clung closely and awkwardly stared up at her brother. When he looked down, he gave her a blank stare. "Yeah, you can ask dad about that later."

When they entered the house the ruckus became the sound of loud music mixed with the shouts of badly dressed teenagers. The strong smell of beer hit Ruby's nose and she knew what it was because her father's breath smelled like it once in a while. A cowboy rushed past the hallway with what looked like a big jar of pee. There were witches and mummies tripping over themselves and bumping into walls. Vampires and weirdoes with pointy ears shouted nonsense and danced (if that's what it was, anyways) to the horrible beats that escaped from the stereo in the living room. Once upon a time, this house was beautiful. Well, Ruby didn't really know that but she could tell it probably was because the curtains were fancy and even the lamp, that was shattered into tiny pieces, had an intricate pattern that didn't look affordable.

Ruby scrunched up her nose but before she could protest, Craig had pulled her into the kitchen.

"Cragister!" said a trojan warrior who came up to Craig and, after a couple of failed attempts, finally hugged him.

"You okay?" Craig grinned, pulling the warrior upright. Somehow he had managed to keep all the beer in his cup.

"Oh I feel _fine_." He slurred and he took a lengthy sip of his beer before dragging his forearm across his lips. "Y-you know, just perfect. And you finally came!"

"Just for a drink." Craig replied.

"Just for a—aw fuck you man. What do you mean just for a drink?" The warrior said and placed his hands drunkenly on Craig's shoulder, nudging him. "And what…what's _this_? Where's your costume?"

"Craig…" Ruby pulled on her brother's sleeve. The Trojan jumped back, spilling some of his beer as he finally noticed the tiny Michael Myers that was attached to Craig's hand.

"Oh shit, what's _that_?" He asked, keeping a very startled look on his face.

"My sister, Clyde." Craig said.

The look on Clyde's face turned into an expression that Craig hadn't seen since the last time they were caught cheating on a spelling test. In the fourth grade.

"Craig, _no._ **No**, there are _adult thingies_ going on here, man. You can't just bring a _not_ adult to an adult meeting, you feel?"

Craig was about to respond when Bebe showed up, fixing the inflatable muscles on her superman costume.

"Clyde where did you leave my cape, I couldn't find—_oh my god is that __**Ruby**_?"

Clyde pointed a sticky finger at Craig and said something along the lines of "was all his idea!" before he ran off. Bebe kept staring, one arm frozen on her deflating bicep. She didn't look happy.

"She followed me," Craig stated simply.

"No I didn't!" Ruby yelled back.

Bebe blinked, took a few moments to gape in disbelief, and finally straightened herself up. She took a deep breath. "Craig…why in the world would you bring Ruby here?"

"I wanted a drink." Craig shrugged. "She just happened to be with me. Completely coincidental."

"I will make your face look completely coincidental, okay?" She glared and pulled Ruby away from him, kneeling down to brush Ruby's damp hair from her face. "I am so sorry you had to deal with your stupid brother, Rubes. He's taking you home right now. And you can tell your dad what an asshole he is."

"Don't swear around the kid." Craig smirked.

Bebe stood back up, giving Craig the death stare. "Take her home. Now."

"Can I have a drink at least?"

"You can have a drink when you come back."

Craig clicked his tongue, narrowing his eyes in a way that usually meant he was thinking of a stupid idea. And Bebe, having known him for quite a long while, knew that look all too well. She didn't like it either.

"How about this—" He began.

"No," Bebe replied. Craig stopped briefly, kind of as if he were trying to decipher the meaning of the word. Then, with the slight roll of his eyes, he continued (because "no" honestly only had meaning if it came out of his mouth).

"How about we do each other a big favor. You take this kid home for me—"

"Craig, no—"

"_AND_," Craig stopped her with his finger. "I'll take Clyde off your back for the rest of the night." He nodded subtly towards the living room where Clyde could be heard singing his drunken version of a Katy Perry song.

Bebe shoulders sagged, a sign of defeat that made Craig grin with how awesome he was at these kinds of things. She looked at Ruby, then at Craig, and then cautiously toward the Trojan warrior singing his heart out on top of Token's coffee table. If she could curse at Craig in ten languages, oh she would.

"You're the worst brother," She finally said, taking Ruby off his hands and hastily walking towards the entrance. If Craig could high five himself without looking stupid, oh he would.

"And you're best there is Bebe!" He called after her before hearing the satisfactory slam of the door.

After that, Craig happily carried himself to the fridge were there were absolutely no beers left.

"AW, SON OF A—"

* * *

Without the delightful taste and effect of liquor in his mouth and his system, Craig was left to wander about Token's abnormally large house in search for something to entertain him. For a while, he lingered by the pool table in one of the rooms, where the guys were more focused on hitting each other with the sticks than the billiard balls. When that lost its humor, he took a stroll upstairs where he pretended to be an art critic, criticizing all the paintings that were hung on the walls. But after the third painting he couldn't had used up all his creative insults. So he trudged back downstairs, plopping himself on one of the stools in the kitchen and occupied himself with stuffing his face with the nachos on the counter.

Teenagers were stupid.

And this party was supposed to be fun.

Craig looked around at the crowd of kids dressed in ridiculous costumes—okay, maybe not the kid that just passed by wearing a MegaMan costume, _that was cool_—but the countless number of vampires, cowboys, banana suits, and was that Bill and Hilary Clinton? Yeah it totally was. Craig didn't understand it. What was all the hype? As far as he knew, that music was enough to give anyone a headache. But then again it could've just been from the lack of beer in his system.

Just as he was about to mentally generate all the reasons he should've stayed home instead of coming here, he saw his highly energetic Trojan warrior trip off the coffee table and knock down the whole Avengers team standing by. Seeing Clyde drunk was always worth it. But instead of helping his friend off the floor, he decided to pop another nacho in his mouth. And simultaneously, some jerk in a Jason Voorhees costume decided to pull up a stool and sit in front of Craig, blocking his lovely view from Clyde's drunk self.

Craig snorted. "Didn't anyone tell you? We let the eighties take Jason back," He said and continued to munch on the nachos in a bored manner.

"What? He's a classic!" Said the muffled voice of a guy behind the mask.

"Krueger was a classic. Jason was a momma's boy."

The masked was pulled off. "Bite my dick, Krueger was weak."

Craig stopped mid-bite on his nacho as he looked over the familiar mess of blonde hair. He would've been glad if that blonde hair was attached Donald Trump's head but no, it had to be _Kenny_.

"Jesus, not you again."

Kenny laughed. "You say it as if I've been stalking you or something."

"You have." Craig half-shouted, pushing the bowl of nachos aside because his appetite went flying back to the eighties, where Jason should have been.

"No way, dude! I've been with Rebecca all night, you can ask her. She'll even tell you all the things we did." Kenny smirked a little at the end, causing Craig to narrow his eyes in disgust.

"I meant all week," Craig said, standing up and brushing the crumbs off his hoodie.

"Oh come on, I saw you like twice. And for very good reasons too." Kenny perked up at his own thoughts. "Which reminds me, we gotta get going."

"Going?" Craig exasperated, feeling his hands ball up into fists. "_Going where, McCormick_? Why do you suddenly think I _like_ hanging out with you?"

Kenny scrunched up his nose in thought, taking in a deep breath and releasing it with a shrug. "Who cares if you do or don't like hanging out with me. This shit is gonna be hilarious so you _gotta_ come."

"The only place I'm going to is home." Craig sneered, pushing past Kenny.

"Aw come on, Craig." Kenny whined. Craig kept walking. "No else has the balls to do it!"

"Don't give a shit!" Craig called back.

"Well, what the hell am I supposed to do with two packs of beer all by myself?"

Craig stopped.

And he stopped fairly quick.

"I'm sorry, what?" Craig said, turning back to scan Kenny for any signs of bullshit. Suddenly Kenny was pointing to a black bag near the stool he sat at—a black bag that was totally not there seconds ago, Craig swears.

"This." Kenny pointed at with a helpless sigh. "Bought it to get pumped up and stuff."

Craig, who didn't understand why he wasn't already on his way home, decided to stride back over to Kenny and—for instructional purposes only—take a peek at what was in the black bag. Just to make sure the asshole wasn't lying.

And dear god, he wasn't. The kid really did have beer. But not just any beer. Modelo. The kid drank _Modelo_.

Craig closed his eyes, muttering all the bad things he could think of under his breath. Was he about to do this? He was not about to do this. This was stupid. There were hundreds of other things he could do. Feeding Stripe was one of them. And Stripe needed to be fed. And his father was going to be angry at him for—wait.

_His father…was at the fair._

"You done meditating there, Gandhi?" Kenny cut in, munching on the bowl of nachos Craig has set aside.

Craig opened his eyes and looked at Kenny.

"This better be worth my time."

* * *

Craig chugged his first beer down by the time they left Token's block. Town's Hall was still a good walk away so he greedily took another beer when Kenny offered it. They walked in silence, Craig keeping a lengthy distance behind Kenny. He watched as the blonde smoothly strode along, dragging a stick he had picked up behind him like he was leaving a trail. The leaves under his feet crunched audibly in the empty streets where the sidewalks were littered empty candy wrappers and party streamers. Craig wasn't even sure of the time, but he was still aware of his surroundings which included the blonde merrily walking ahead of him and that annoyed him. So he took another long sip from his beer, hoping it would at least blur him out.

Suddenly Kenny stopped in his tracks, alert. Then he quickly dove behind a tree and motioned Craig to come over.

"The hell are you doing?" Craig called out, confused.

"Shhh!" Kenny responded, "Just come here, quick."

Craig finished his beer, crushing the can and chucking it randomly aside. He took his time to reach the tree, giving Kenny a skeptical look.

"What?" He said.

"Shut up." Kenny hissed. He cautiously looked out into the street and chuckled quietly to himself. "Stay here. Check this out."

Kenny sprinted towards a couple of bushes and Craig looked out into the streets to see what the hell was even going on. It didn't take him long to catch the drift as a couple of late trick-or-treaters came up the sidewalk, talking tiredly amongst themselves. He looked back at Kenny who gave him a wink before digging in the black bag and sliding on a weird clown mask.

Craig couldn't help but grin. As the kids walked by Kenny jumped out and shouted what Craig thought was something along the lines of "_give me your souls_". The kids screamed, oh that they did. But what caught Craig off guard was that their secondary instinct after that was to pummel Kenny to the ground in defense of their poor souls. Craig's mouth dropped as the kids ran away, leaving Kenny sprawled out on the sidewalk, defeated.

"Huh…" Craig looked amused. Seconds later he was on the ground laughing and clutching at his stomach.

Kenny picked himself up, groaning and cracking his back as he walked back towards Craig.

"You…you fucking idiot." Craig said in between bursts of laughter. "Why'd you do that?"

Kenny grinned, sitting himself down and showing the bulky bag he held in his hand. "Why else?"

He chucked the bag at Craig and took out two beers for themselves. Craig accepted the can and caught his breath, sticking a hand to rummage through all the candy.

"_No way_."

"You're welcome, asshole." Kenny said and popped open his beer, reaching it out to Craig. "Cheers."

Craig, a little less grumpy from the beer, decided hey, why not?

"Cheers…idiot."

* * *

One block left to go and the two, having drunk almost all the beer Kenny had bought, were feeling light on their feet. So their best idea was to have a race all the way to the finish line: Town's Hall.

"Bet I can beat you." Kenny said, hiccupping loudly.

Craig drowned down the last of his beer and threw the empty can at Kenny. "Bet not."

"Race me." Kenny growled defensively. "I dare you."

But Craig had already sprinted forward leaving Kenny to mutter "you bastard!" as he took off behind. They laughed down the dark streets, pushing and pulling to get ahead and using anything on the ground to throw at each other. As they ran down with their wild drunk laughs, a couple of lights in the houses went on. Craig found it mildly humorous as he imagined their laughs were like clap-on mechanisms.

When they reached their destination they both fell tiredly on the ground, catching their breaths.

"I won." Kenny declared, victoriously pumping his fist in the air. Craig sat up and flipped him off, taking his blue hat off to run a hand through his damp hair.

"We're here." Craig said. "Now what?"

Kenny sat up, or tried to, and dug around in his sweater's pockets. Only then had Craig realized Kenny was wearing black and not his usual awful orange parka. The blonde pulled out a couple of round balls and held them up for Craig to see.

They were…stink bombs?

"We're gonna make the place smell like ass?" Craig said, disappointed.

Kenny giggled.

"No, you shitbrain, these aren't stink bombs. They're…" He scrunch up his face in thought. "They're like…sort of…well they're not fucking stink bombs okay. These bitches light up."

"Oh." Craig said, taking one in his hand and examining it as much as his drunk self could. Kenny continued talking, explaining the plan probably but Craig was just so fascinated in these miraculous little balls that Kenny said lit up. He quickly dug into his pockets, taking out his lighter. Kenny kept on mumbling happy to himself, making some weird blurry hand gestures Craig couldn't see but all that kept popping into his head was _these bitches light up_.

Craig didn't remember the last time he actually went to see fireworks on the fourth of july. He just knew that in that drunken moment, he remembered he used to love them. And the thought of this baby going off in a place it shouldn't go off in, making all those heavenly sparks and bright colorful lights. Oh that would just be _perfect_.

Without much thought, he got up and walked over to one of the nearest windows of the building, looking straight into the hall where the adults were mingling and having a great fucking time. And okay, let's be honest he did give it a little thought. A thought that said "I really want to want to fuck this little party up."

So he lit up the firework, stepped back and with all his might, threw it at the window.

Kenny jumped at the sound of glass shattering and looked over at Craig who was running back towards him with the look of a child who just received a free ice cream cone.

"What was that? What happened?" Kenny asked but before Craig could answer, a loud sound of cracking was heard along with the unanimous shouts of all the adults inside the building. A short while after, the smoke alarm went off.

"Let's go!" Craig pulled Kenny up, emitting his drunk laughter once again.

Kenny followed instantly but looked back in amazement, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Holy shit, what did you do?"

"I don't fucking know" Craig choked out, breathing heavily as they both ran off from sight. He could still hear the shouts of confusion from behind and all he could think about was how funny his father must've looked when the firework went off. The next thing he knew, Kenny was lighting up another ball and throwing it casually down the street behind them.

Craig watched as the ball swirled and lit up into stream of sparks. His face hurt and he realized he had still been laughing. He looked at Kenny who kept lighting up the "bombs" as they went along.

"I don't know what just happened." Craig said and admitted as Kenny looked back with his drunk grin.

"But I fucking _liked _it."


End file.
